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I packed a bunch of finger foods and some sandwiches for the picnic, and I hope she likes them. I pull out the water bottles and the bottle of wine, tucking them under my arms before I move over to the blanket.
“Here, let me take some of that.”
She grabs the water bottles and wine before I can drop anything and I wait for her to set it down in the middle of the red and black checkered blanket before I lay out the food.
“I hope you’re hungry,” I say. She giggles.
“Always.”
“My kind of woman.”
I pass her a plate and we start to open the packages of crackers, olives, pasta salad, grapes, watermelon, vegetables and dip, and sandwiches.
“This all looks so good,” she says with a bright smile. I think about telling her then.
I could just say it, just tell her that I love her and that I can’t imagine my life without her. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable though. If she doesn’t feel the same, or if she needs time to think, then I want her to have a clear exit and not feel nervous or scared while riding back to the barn. So, I bite my tongue and help her fill her plate.
“Where did you get all of this?” Kennedy asks as she pops an olive into her mouth.
I know they’re her favorite because she bought a jar when we went to the grocery store a few days ago and already ate all of them. I’ve never cared for olives but there’s something about seeing her eat them, the way she sucks out the pimento, that does something to me. I’ve already made a mental note to keep the fridge stocked with jars of them from now on.
"I heard from my dad today," she says, making my stomach drop.
Does he want her to come back early? Did he have another heart attack?
“Yeah?” I say, trying to sound nonchalant when I’m really panicking inside. “How’s he doing?”
“Good, actually. I was starting to worry since he hasn’t really been in contact, but I guess he’s been doing physical therapy and seeing a nutritionist. He’s been eating healthier and getting into a good routine since I’ve been gone. The doctors seem happy with the change.”
“That’s good.”
She nods. I know Kennedy loves her dad, but I have my reservations. I don’t wish ill for the man, and I’m glad he’s doing better, but it’s clear to me he has his priorities mixed up. Kennedy should never feel ignored, and she certainly shouldn’t have had to live with her phobia of horses for so long. If he would have just spent a few hours a week with her in the stables…
But that’s a bridge I’ll have to cross another time. This isn’t about that right now.
"He sounds back to his old self," Kennedy continues. "He told me he's gone down to the stables every day this week, and he was even talking about some new filly that he has high hopes for."
"That's exciting."
"Yeah," she says quietly and I realize that she has tears in her eyes.
“Whoa, Kennedy, what’s wrong, baby?” I ask, already reaching to pull her into my arms.
“I just… I didn’t realize how stressed I was about taking over the farm until I talked to him and he sounded better,” she whispers, sniffling at the end. “I don’t think I’ll have to run things for a while, and I just felt so relieved,” she says through a sob and I wrap her up tighter in my arms.
“It’s okay,” I say, trying to comfort her as she buries her face in my chest. I can feel her frantic energy, her frayed emotions as she cries in my arms.
“Does that make me a bad daughter?” she asks quietly. I shake my head.
"No. No, of course not. I know your dad loves you in his own way. I'm sure he just wants you to be happy, whatever that looks like." I sure as hell hope that's true.
She nods and I rub her back slowly as she starts to calm down.
Maybe she doesn’t want to go back to Kentucky now that there aren’t any obligations with the ranch.Every time I’ve asked her about her hometown or her friends, she never sounds very excited. I thought maybe she didn’t want to open up to me, or maybe she was always just thinking about horses from back home, but maybe she just doesn’t love the place.
I feel like a dick to be so excited about the possibility of her staying when she’s still drying her eyes in my arms, so I focus on her instead of what that could mean for our future.
“Want something to drink?” I ask when she pulls away from me.
